


Payday

by kenchang



Category: Death Wish (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenchang/pseuds/kenchang
Summary: In a crime-infested city where the well-to-do are more concerned with the rights of the criminals than the safety of the middle class, who can one honest, hard-working man count on?





	Payday

**Author's Note:**

> Expect character breaks. I made no attempt at being sensitive nor politically correct. If you are easily offended, do not read. Do not bother commenting. I do not read comments anymore. Kudos are appreciated.

Carl Betts cautiously walks the cold, near empty streets on his way home. He's always extra careful on a payday, making sure to stay alert and avoid people who seem like trouble. It isn't paranoia when you have to work late in a rough neighborhood.

As he passes by a small appliance store, he sees a man in a coat watching the news on a TV through the display window. The news is about another student demonstration demanding for the capture of the vigilante. Carl can't help but shake his head wearily.

"You know, a long time ago, the people were on his side," he tells the stranger. "But times have changed. Now, everyone's more concerned for the rights of the criminals than the safety of the citizens."

"You don't agree with them," the stranger responds.

"Hah! Those are rich kids from rich subdivisions with CCTVs and security guards workin' round the clock. Ain't none o' them ever been a victim of crime. What would they know about it? Hell, I got mugged just last month. Bastard stole two weeks' wages." Carl sadly shakes his head at the memory. "I went to the cops, gave a description, looked at some mug shots. They put it all in a file and then nothing."

The stranger doesn't say a word so Carl continues.

"Long time ago, when I was a kid, some punks broke into my dad's house, took everything. Money, TV, even my mama's cheap ass jewelry." He chuckles bitterly. "Cops came, asked us a bunch o' questions. They never did catch the guys or got our stuff back. Oh, look at me ramblin'. I must really be gettin' old. Haven't even introduced myself. My name's Carl."

The stranger thinks for a second then replies, "K."

"You sayin' okay or K's your name?"

K doesn't say a word.

Carl shrugs his shoulders and says, "Alright. That's cool."

"How come you don't protest in favor of the vigilante?" K asks.

"You kiddin' me? Blue-collar guys like me ain't got no time to protest. We're too busy workin' our asses off just to make ends meet. Right now, the only person speakin' in favor of the vigilante is Deejay Forthright over at Justice Radio. Now that guy says it like it is. But you know somethin'? I wish I could meet the vigilante. If I could, I'd tell 'em…"

"What?"

"Naw, forget it. Gotta head on home before the missus gets mad. Stay safe, K."

#

Carl crosses a couple of streets. He is nearly home. His mind is still distracted by thoughts of what he just saw on the TV, so he is caught completely off guard when a young man with a semi-automatic pistol leaps out from behind a dark alley.

"Gimme all your money!" the young man tells him.

"You again?!" Carl shouts. "Damn, man, you already took all my money the last time! How come you never mug one o' them rich, white kids protestin' for your rights on TV?!

"Because the cops care about them rich, white kids. But nobody's gonna give a shit if they find your middle class carcass next to a dumpster in the mornin'. Now, hand over the money!"

Carl sighs angrily. He starts to reach for his wallet, but he stops and says, "No."

"No?!"

"No! I can't keep comin' home empty handed to my wife and kids. What kind of a man am I if I can't provide for them?"

"You're no good to them dead."

"I'M NO GOOD TO THEM RIGHT NOW!" Carl falls on his knees, tears running down his face. "Look, man, give a brother a break. Don't do this. You're younger than me, stronger than me. You could get a job. I could get you a job where I work."

"This IS my job. It's the only thing I'm good at," the younger man sadly answers. And with genuine sympathy, he adds, "Sorry, brother. I gotta put food on my family's table, too."

He points his gun at Carl's face and is just about to execute him, when he sees a man in a coat walking down the street towards them.

"Hey, stay outta this!" he warns the other man.

Suddenly, his stomach explodes! Bright red blood bursts from the gaping wound. Carl covers his ears and starts screaming hysterically. The young man staggers drunkenly, his gun hanging limp in his hand. There is a confused look on his face. Another explosion, this one to the chest, knocks him down! His body twitches a little, then stops moving entirely.

Carl turns around and finds K with a large, smoking, silver revolver in hand. K puts the weapon away, then he casually walks over and searches the young man's corpse. He takes a wad of bills, possibly stolen, from the dead man's pockets. He also takes the mugger's semi-automatic pistol.

"Holy shit, it's you," Carl squeaks, still in shock. "You're him. You're the vigilante."

K sternly tells him, "I was never here."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't tell a soul."

The vigilante begins to walk back up the street when Carl calls after him, "H-Hey!"

K stops and slightly turns his head.

"Don't give up no matter what they say," Carl tells him. "You're all the little guys like me have got."

The vigilante smiles a little.

"I won't," he assures Carl, then walks away, with his hands in his coat pockets, into the cold night.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
